


Casting Rain Extras

by Silverskye13



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Story within a Story, halloween drabble, honestly i doubt anyone will read this if they haven't read CR, just a collection of drabbles really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2018-08-28 09:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8440705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silverskye13/pseuds/Silverskye13
Summary: Just what it sounds like! Extra scenes from Casting Rain that either didn't make the final cut, are alternate endings of scenes that DID make the final cut, are prompts via asks and so on. Not sure how much will collect here, but it gets its own stage just in case!





	1. The Sluagh

“It’s _cold_ ,” Gaster whined, huddling up close to the fire before them, “Why is it _cold?”_

Amathea laughed, sitting down heavily beside the skeleton, “Tell me again how a monster with no skin can feel cold, Gaster?”

The skeleton gave her a disdainful glare, not even bothering to grace her with an answer. With a muttered _harumph!_ he ignored her, turning instead to Grillby. The elemental was smirking in bright colors to himself, pretending to be interested in the stew he was cooking. It was a new one, he’d never tried it before. But Amathea had _insisted_ he cook a specific recipe, using a handful of vegetables and spices Grillby had never used before. It was a special occasion, she’d said, something to do with the turn of fall and gods of the harvest. Of course, Grillby knew nothing about it, but that didn’t stop him from learning the new recipe anyway.

“How much longer until food?”

“Don’t get your hopes up too much boy,” Amathea chided, grinning, “It’s not all for you.”

“ _Ammy_ ,” Gaster groaned, “ _Please_ don’t tell me we’re doing this again.”

Grillby flickered a questioning look at the two. _Don’t what now?_

“I do it every year, lad, and I’ll be damned if I stop for you,” Amathea chuckled, “Grillby, make sure there’s enough in the pot left over for a visitor.”

“A visitor?”

“Oh _what’s_ it gonna be this year, Am?” Gaster sighed with a roll of his eyes, “A giant sea monster? Screaming death zombies?”

“Aye sure, be skeptical ya ponce,” Amathea laughed, “But I’m telling ya, every one of those beasties is real.”

Grillby blinked between the two monsters, beyond confused. Amathea had a smug smirk on her face, a glimpse of her teeth just glimmering in the fire light. Gaster just crossed his arms childishly and glared at her.

“What am I missing here?” Grillby crackled with a quizzical smile, “And who’s joining us for dinner?”

“ _No one_ is,” Gaster harrumphed, “Nothing other than mythological spooks and… _ghosts_ and things.”

He paused and then amended, “Not like… monster ghosts though. Like… evil spirits. All that nonsense.”

“Sounds charming,” Grillby chuckled.

“It’s _not_ charming,” Amathea said seriously, her grin being replaced by a look of more serious disdain, unamused by Gaster’s skepticism, “It’s _Oiche Shamhna_ , and you’ll do it some respect.”

“Ee… how - what?” Grillby stammered.

“ _Ee_ -hyeh _how_ -nuh,” Amathea corrected, “Or Samhain I guess, if it’s easier for ya. It’s the final harvest of the year. _Very_ important back where I’m from. That’s when you remember your family and friends - and those who’ve passed on over the years. Leave a bit of food out for them with the rest of your dinner to let them know they’re welcome.”

“It’s also when she thinks the spirit world gets closer to the _real one_ ,” Gaster muttered, nervous, “And all kinds of nasty evil things start crawling around.”

“It’s just for one night,” Amathea grinned, “And if you watch your mouth about the beasties, _maybe_ they wouldn’t haunt you so much.”

The commander sat back, her grin squirming into something much more mischievous, “This year’s a… hmm… a dark-spirit year. I can feel it in my bones.”

“ _Dark-spirit year?”_ Gaster whined, “What the hell, Ammy!?”

Grillby chuckled. He could already see Amathea slipping into a story. She just had this _look_ about her when she was getting ready to tell a tale. Her back got a little straighter, her hand perched on her knee as she leaned imperceptibly forward. Her ear frills twitched, her eyes widening just slightly to catch them in that consuming, attention-keeping glare.

“Well, they’re not really dark-spirits, are they?” she said smoothly, her voice lowering _just a bit_ , just enough to make it harder to hear, to entice Grillby and Gaster into leaning forward to listen, “But we can’t call them by their _real_ names, can we? That’s how they know to _come find you_.”

Gaster growled a sharp sigh past his teeth, “Oh stop it.”

“Don’t believe me do you?” Amathea huffed, ear frills twitching in an indignant pout, “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you! _Fine_. They’re called…”

Amathea hesitated, pausing to glance to one side, up a little, as if something might be standing above her and watching. She ran her tongue pensively against one of her sharpened teeth, wondering for a second if it really _was_ a good idea to say it aloud. Finally she muttered, “... the _sluagh_.”

A shiver twisted its way through Grillby’s soul as she said it, a shimmer hit the air. A… _heaviness_ seeped into the air around them like a building fog. Like someone was… watching… _hovering_.

“Goddamn it, Ammy,” Gaster barked, startling Grillby with the suddenness of the noise, “I can feel your magic. Stop trying to freak us out!”

“I’ve done nothing, lad,” Amathea said innocently, her hand flying up to her chest in a solemn promise, “I don’t _have_ to. It’s the dark-spirits, getting closer. _Listening_ for us. They don’t like hearing their name talked aloud, do they?”

“Why would _anyone care_ about their name being said?” Gaster snorted, “Let alone _spirits?”_

Grillby flickered a smirk. Gaster was _nervous_. He could tell in the way his signs grew frenetic, and just subtly shaky. In the way his voice got just a little higher in pitch. And… Grillby had to admit he shared the feeling. Amathea’s tale was already creepy, especially with the falling twilight pressing in on them. The request to keep the extra food at hand had been weird enough. These… dark-spirits… were an entirely different ingredient thrown into the mix.

Amathea let out a loud, incredulous laugh, as if she couldn’t _believe_ Gaster could ask such a question, “Don’t you know a single thing, lad? It’s ‘cause that’s not their names. Not really. It’s just what they turned into. What they’ve… _twisted_ into. And they don’t like it. Down in what’s left of their gritty, shriveled up souls, they know it’s _wrong_.”

She winked at them and flashed a smirk, “So the sluagh’s get pretty testy when you talk about them too much.”

Amathea slipped the name into her sentence casually, but Grillby still felt a subtle writhe in his stomach, a shudder through his core when it was said. The world around them seemed to get a little darker, pressing in just slightly.

_“Ammy!”_ Gaster hissed, hands signing in wild, shushing motions, “If it’s really that _bad,_ why don’t you _stop saying it!_ ”

Amathea chuckled, “Oh don’t worry your head too much over it. It’s a rule of sevens, yeah? You got to say their name seven times ‘afore they _really_ start acting. It’s like a jinx. Magic in its own way I guess.”

Grillby flickered a soft sigh of relief he didn’t realize he’d been holding. The air of the night must be getting to him. He’d… felt so tense already. The elemental shook the feeling of foreboding away, smiling.

“So what are they Ammy?” Grillby asked, giving a curious spark, “Are they just like ghosts then?”

Gaster rolled his eyes and gave the elemental a shove, “No. Stop right there! _Don’t_ encourage her. She’ll have you spooked for weeks!”

Both Grillby and Gaster jumped when a sudden voice guffawed in uproarious laughter behind them, “Yeah Ammy! Don’t scare the poor wee lambs!”

“ _Goddamnit_ Thetis!” Gaster snapped as Amathea’s sister crossed around the fire, “You almost gave me a heart attack!”

Thetis raised an eyebrow at Gaster, a teasing, questioning smile pulling at her teeth as she looked him up and down, “Remind me again how a monster with no organs can have a heart attack?”

Gaster narrowed his eye sockets at her, “Have you seriously been listening to us this entire time?”

Thetis wisely kept her mouth shut, choosing instead to fall to the ground beside her sister. She huddled up close to the fire, hands pressed closer to it in an effort to shoo away the chill.

“Telling the scared little monsters about the dark-spirits, are you?” Thetis asked with a twisted grin, “Did ya tell them what they do to teeny monsters out past their bedtime?”

Grillby laughed a sigh and rolled his eyes, “Okay, now you two are just being ridiculous.”

“It’s _always been_ ridiculous!” Gaster shouted with a flail of his arms.

“Aye if it were just that, the world would be a much prettier place,” Amathea said with a heavy, solemn sort of sigh - though Grillby _did_ notice she flashed her sister a quick, sideways glance, as if to make sure they were on the same line of thought, “The _sluagh_ don’t just creep around in the shadows causing mischief like some fairy. They’re detestable things, living off of fear and darkness.”

“It’s said they’re what’s left of humans and monsters,” Thetis picked up, her voice lowering into a breathy hush as she glanced about at the darkness around them, the air pressing in closer, heavier, as she did so, “When they’ve died. In just the instant before their soul shatters… the gods look down on them. If they’ve been especially cruel, they’re cursed to roam the earth as shadows of their former selves, _hungry_ , always searching for what they want the most.”

The two exchanged heavy glances, and Amathea hissed, her voice dropping low and foreboding, “They devour souls _whole.”_

Grillby gave a flicker as a chill ran down his spine. A creature that devours souls? That was… that was terrifying -

“Hold up!” Gaster frowned, “I’ll stop you right there. _Humans_ might be in plenty danger, but monster souls don’t persist after death.”

“Aye, you’re right lad,” Amathea chuckled with a wink, “But who said they’d be killing ya before they start eating you?”

“Ew.”

“I’m sure they’d burn their tongue,” Grillby chuckled nervously.

Thetis let out a snort of laughter, “I doubt your soul’s as fiery as _you are_ , Grillby. Your soul is white and shimmery, just like ours.”

“Yep,” Amathea agreed with a nod, leaning in towards the fire just a bit more, “They don’t have to worry about biting into your _flesh_.”

A slow smile curled across her teeth as she reached forward her clawed hand towards Girllby’s chest. The elemental couldn’t help the nervous shudder that ran through him as she did, “They just reach out for you, in the night when you’re curled up asleep. Or alone, doing _one last errand_ in the night.”

She clamped her hand shut, “Then they wrap their cold little claws around your soul and -” she jerked her arm back in a vicious motion that made both Grillby and Gaster jump, “ - _rip it outta your body!”_

Thetis nodded her head gravely, “Aye they do! And then when they’ve torn it to pieces and you’ve faded into dust, they start feasting on it, vainly trying to fill the emptiness in what used to be their souls.”

Grillby’s flame was flickering low now, and in sickly turning greens and yellows, nervous and scared. He glanced over at Gaster, the skeleton now huddling closer to Grillby in some unconscious effort for comfort. Grillby didn’t bother moving him.

“ _But_ ,” Amathea amended with a pitiful smile, “There is _one way_ to chase them off if you catch them sneaking in your shadow.”

“Oh thank the gods,” Grillby muttered under his breath, and then a bit louder, “I mean uh… how?”

“Simple! You ask them a question they can’t know the answer to,” Thetis said with an optimistic chime, “Of course, it can’t just be _any_ question. They’re basically demons. They know everything.”

“Aye, but there’s one thing they can never know,” Amathea said with a sagely nod, “ _Their name_. That gets lost the minute they turn into one of the _sluagh_.”

There it was again, that heavy shiver that ran through Grillby’s body as soon as Amathea said the name. Suddenly the night around them seemed dramatically darker, and Grillby could feel the chill on him like clawed hands across his shoulders. He scooted a little closer to Gaster. Maybe… if one of the creatures really did show up…

“Okay, ha-ha great story,” Gaster laughed nervously, “But I’m still finding plot holes here. If they really _are_ demons, what’s keeping them from just making up a name and grabbing your soul anyway?”

“I told ya lad, the gods are the ones that turn them into _sluagh,_ and the gods make the rules on their existence,” Amathea chided, “They cannot tell a lie. It’s written on the mother of all gods’ book of time. To lie is to forfeit any chance they have of being filled, and ending their miserable afterlife.”

“Oh right, of course,” Gaster muttered, “Could you please just… stop doing the name stuff?”

“I told ya lad, it’s a rule of sevens. That’s how name jinxes work. We’re safe until we pass it, and I’ve only said what… four? Five?”

“Rule of sevens?” Thetis hummed idly, “I always thought it was a rule of threes?”

“Okay! That is it!” Gaster exclaimed, jumping to his feet and nearly startling Grillby into falling over, “I’m _done_ with your curses and spirit stories! I am going to bed! Have fun terrorizing Grillby!”

“Don’t they only get you if you’re alone though? Or _asleep?_ ” Grillby asked, flickering a fearful spark, his voice stammering out much more frantic than he’d intended. Gaster stopped mid-stride, scowling fiercely. He looked out at the darkness beyond the campfire, and the hazy outline of the forebodingly dark tent beyond it. He sighed, shifted on his feet uneasily, and then let out a mewling whine.

“ _A-a-ammy-y-y why?!”_

Amathea simply grinned a great crescent-moon smile and patted the ground beside her, “Come on Gaster, we’ll protect you from the nasty beasties.”

Begrudgingly, Gaster sat back beside the others, huddling close to Grillby. His eyes darted out into the darkness every few seconds, checking for movement, foreign noises - any sign they were being snuck up on.

“So, have you told them about the one you saw yet?” Thetis asked after a pause, smiling wide at her sister, “Back at Carrick Hill?”

“Oh heavens above,” Gaster muttered miserably.

“Y’sure that’s not too scary a story to tell them?” Amathea asked, feigning a look of worry, “Don’t want to give the poor boys any nightmares do we?”

“No we _don’t!”_ Gaster agreed.

“I wanna hear it,” Grillby flickered quietly.Gaster shot him a fierce glare in return.

Amathea cleared her throat, leaning back and thinking, as if the story took an effort to remember. Thetis watched her intently, as if the story were the most enthralling thing she’d ever heard in her life.

“Well let’s see now,” Amathea hummed, “Carrick Hill… well, that was one of the towns off the coast we had a good runaround in, wasn’t it? Set fire to the whole place, didn’t we? Wasn’t that when Irade almost get his head lopped off in a bar fight?”

Thetis hiccupped a laugh, “And he was trying so hard to be a gentleman while he was courting that lass. Didn’t even swear once.”

“Shouldn’t have groped her though,” Amathea shrugged.

“Yeah... Irade never had much class.”

“Is there a point to all this?” Gaster interrupted, “Or can I go to bed now?”

Amathea chuckled and cleared her throat again, “ _Anyway_ , so we’d been _brawling_ a bit-”

Grillby flickered a smirk, “Burning down a town is just _brawling?”_

“It was for _us_ ,” Amathea giggled, “ _Anyway_. So we’d been brawling, and just stumbled back to the ship. We were sheltered in a bit of a hideout we’d found among the cliffs. I decided to keep watch, you know, since I was the least drunk out of all of us-”

“She just holds it better,” Thetis corrected, “I swear to every god above she drank three men under the table that night.”

Amathea laughed, “Oh that was _loads_ of fun. But uh… so me and a few of our shipmates were keeping watch on deck, and we saw… _something_.”

Amathea’s voice lowered a bit, her gaze focusing on some unknown spot in the fire, “I remember it made little noise… just a bit of a tapping on the stones. And it never came into the firelight. But I could see its eyes. Little… shining eyes, reflecting in the light, red as blood. At first, we thought it might be some dog from the city, and one of our boys jumped down to shoo it off. That’s when it got him.”

Amathea hissed in a sharp breath through her teeth, “Oh did that poor boy _scream_. I watched it dig its nasty claws right through his middle, his soul shining out his back, clutched in that grubby, clawed-up fist. And then the little thing _yanked it out of him_. I saw its face for a second, lit up bright when it bit into his soul.”

A haunted look flickered in Amathea’s eyes, and she darted a look past Grillby’s shoulder, as if she expected something to be there. A prickling feeling crawled up Grillby’s spine, and he hunched down a little further. Maybe… maybe he was just getting… paranoid…. But… he felt like there was something behind him. Standing. Staring. Just far enough away that he couldn’t feel the brush of it’s breathing on his neck.

“It had… big… sunken in eyes,” Amathea continued, eyes squinting slightly, as if she were trying to remember the look… or maybe just trying to think of the words to describe it, “But only the tiny pupils glared light back at us. It was thin, thin as _bones_ , but the skin that clung to it… all sickly and grey, hugging every bone in its body so close. You could see its insides, pulsing organs, pressed up against its flesh. And it’s _face_. It was like a human’s, but with big stark teeth that grinned no matter what it did, even when it was stuffing its face! And its teeth were sharp and stabby, perfect for ripping apart little souls, crunching them around…”

Amathea shuddered, “Gods above and the _noises!_ It tore into that soul, ripped big chunks out of it, all with the same wet snapping that come when some poor bastard’s arm gets torn off in a bloody fight. Needless to say, the poor boy wasn’t screaming for long. And as soon as his dust scattered, that foul thing started shoveling handfuls of it into its mouth.”

Amathea paused for a few more seconds, straightening a bit. Grillby realized with a dull ache in his back that he’d leaned forward too, listening close. Drinking in every horrifying word. He sat back now, stifling a shudder and trying to still the faster hitch that had come over his breathing.

Amathea sighed, snapping up their attention again, “I thought it would be coming for me next honestly. It turned its head and glared at me, grinning that ugly, devil grin, magic and dust and soul-stuff dripping through its teeth.”

Amathea shivered again, looking off to some point in the fire. Then she… laughed. A slow, low, rumbling laugh that resonated somewhere in her chest. As she did the world seemed to grow darker, the fire flickering low and dim, nothing but embers. The air sank colder, and Grillby felt his throat tighten a bit with a mounting, panic-like fear.

“Ammy…?”

“You know,” Amathea hummed, her eyes flicking up sharply to catch the two boys in a glare, her mouth devoid of her storytelling grin, “Back home, you know, they tell stories…”

She was sitting up straighter again, her presence and the weight of her words looming above them, “That if you see one of the _sluagh_ , you’ve got nothing to fear from them. Not really.”

The beginnings of a smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, and her eyes narrowed. Grillby felt Gaster move beside him, and leaned with him. He felt cornered, trapped between this weird expression that had come over Amathea and the pressing darkness behind them. His soul shuddered a little faster in his chest.

“They might send you off a little early,” she purred, her smile lighting up a little more of her face, weaving into her glare, her voice peppered with almost manic urgency, “But it’s nothing that wouldn’t have happened anyway. After all, if you see one of those fell things…”

Her grin twitched and spread, “ _You’re destined to become one_.”

“R-right,” Gaster said with a nervous laugh, looking very much like he might bolt away at any second, “But those are just… you know… _stories?”_

Amathea laughed, a great, rolling, building laugh as her grin slip her face. For a second, her eyes flashed red, “What have I been telling you all this time lads? _I’d never lie to you.”_

Grillby sparked a fearful crackle, shuffling back away from the looming commander just an inch…

… and as he did a cold hand pressed into his back, clawed fingers reaching right behind his soul.

Grillby let out a shriek and leaped to his feet, Gaster screaming with him in unison. The two leaped to run, tripped over each other, tumbled and fell in a tangled mess of legs and arms. And Amathea was laughing at them, her voice echoing and twisting through the air like…! Like…!

Gods she was laughing so hard she was doubled over, all of her built-up magic dropping out of the air with a shimmer. Grillby looked up at her, confused for a second, before he realized her _echo_ was _Thetis_. The younger sister was on the ground behind where Gaster and Grillby had been setting, laughing until she was crying, hugging her stomach painfully.

“Oh _goddamnit!”_ Gaster shouted indignantly, finally managing to disentangle himself from Grillby and stagger to his feet, “You guys are _awful!”_

“Oh we _are!”_ Amathea gasped in between heaving laughs, “That was t-terrible! Ahaha - oh my _gods you should’ve seen your faces!”_

Thetis sucked in a loud breath, “You thought Ammy was a -- you thought -- !”

And then she was back to being a hysterical, laughing mess.

Grillby couldn’t help himself. He started laughing too. Not because he thought it was funny - he was flickering ever embarrassed color he could possibly have. But he was _relieved_. Relieved it really _was_ all just a story. Just the two girls poking fun. He sat up long enough to let out a few nervous giggles before collapsing back over again.

_Gods_ he hoped they never did that again.


	2. The First Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grillby's first day alive, just after he'd been summoned.
> 
> \-- This was also a prompt from Cuandollueven-Mapaches on Tumblr! And an excellent one at that! --
> 
> I didn't actually go back and edit this one so be aware there might be an uptake in spelling and grammer icks - as well as my weird habit of accidentally meshing two sentences together. If there's any parts that are indecipherable point 'em out to me and I'll fix 'em!

When the elemental that would someday be known as Grillby stumbled out of the summoning tent, he was struck by two things. The first being how  _bright_ everything was, nearly blindingly white. The sun hung above him in a cloudless sky, and reflected brilliantly off of every ice and snow covered surface. It hurt to see and more than anything he’d wanted to return right back into the tent he’d walked out of in spite of how claustrophobic it was when filled with monsters. The next thing that struck him was how  _small_ he was. Not just compared to the monsters around him, but to the world as well. Looking up at a vast and empty sky, only hedged in at the farthest points by distant hills... it was almost as if he could see until the ends of the earth. Everything was  _so much larger_ than he was, expansive and vast and nearly endless. Again he missed the closeness of the tent.

“ _Elemental_ ,” snapped a voice nearby, and the elemental flickered to follow it, taking two steps for every one of the monster’s that he followed. The monster he followed had a slight limp, which made it a bit easier to keep up with him. The elemental tried not to become too distracted watching the world go by as he walked. Tried and failed. Everything was so  _new_ , and so chaotic.

Monsters ran to and fro carrying messages, on their way to get food or any other number of things. Some polished metal, swords, shields, weapons, armor. Some made them. Some laughed and talked, others watched the world go by. Others trained, or played with magic. But all of them  _were_ , and they were loud and vibrant and very  _different._ Different from what exactly, the elemental didn’t know. New. Strange.

He wanted to know more about them. More about what was going on. 

“Where are we going?” he asked mostly to the monster leading him through the encampment, but partly to the world around him.

“We’re going to get you some food,” came the grumbled reply, stammered a bit through a shivering voice. The elemental didn’t know if it was age or some sort of ailment that made him speak that way. He figured it would be rude to ask, “If you’re going to be of any use killing mages you need to be much stronger than you are now.”

“How strong can I even be?”

This earned the elemental a derisive sort of snort in reply, and a muttered, “How should I know? You’re an elemental.” As if that were enough to answer the question. The elemental supposed that was all the answer he was going to get for now. This monster was a bit too grumpy for anything else.

He wondered idly how strong a mage was.

They eventually meandered into another large tent, now incredibly dim compared to the light outside. They stood in a line waiting for food, and the elemental tried his best not to stare at every new creature he saw that moved and breathed around him. There was every type of creature imaginable, in every possible shape or size, all grumbling or hissing amongst themselves, all eating and enjoying in each others’ company.

The elemental  _did_ notice that the enthusiasm of the place seemed to stifle as soon as monsters began noticing his presence. He started attracting attention, stares and whispers. It made him feel uncomfortable. He became suddenly  _completely_ aware that, of all the many different monsters there, he was the only one like himself. He was the only  _elemental_.

“Boy come here,” groused the monster he’d been following, and with a startled spark he jolted to the monster’s side. The line had moved enough to leave them where the cooks stood over large stew-pots nearly as tall as the newly summoned elemental. He could just barely peer over the top to see their bubbling contents - a brackish and bubbling sort of mixture that looked more like mud than soup. The monster he was following took a bowl for himself, and curtly instructed the elemental to take two of his own. He tried not to feel too self conscious when he heard the cooks whispering about him as they left.

Together he and the monster meandered towards the back of the tent into a quiet corner where fewer monsters sat around to gawk at them. The monster sat at one of the tables, but shooed the elemental away when he went to set beside him.

“ _Stop that_ ,” he retorted, flashing the elemental a hearty glare, “You’ll set the damn table on fire.”

The elemental felt a pang of some feeling go through his chest. He was pretty sure the monster was overreacting but... he was  _incredibly new_. He couldn’t really know for sure, could he?

The monster motioned for the elemental to sit on the ground beside him, and he did. They ate in silence - until the monster was done. Then it was just a lot of grumbles about him taking too long and needing to hurry up so they could leave. It was distracting to say the least - almost as distracting as all the glances in their direction. It made the elemental feel queasy,  _watched_. He wanted to hide away from them.

When they finally left, the elemental breathed a smoking sigh of relief.

The whole day seemed to pass like that. Running to get outfitted with some clothes, the nervous brushes of hands nearby him as a monster took his measurements, wincing as if they were scared the elemental would burn them. The awkwardness of standing in a tent and waiting while other monsters whispered, pointed and stared. The bitter grumbling of the monster he’d been paired with telling him to pay attention, stand up straight, hurry up, do as he was told and  _quickly_. Meeting the commander him and the monster he was with were going to be working under, watching as the new unit he’d be a part of whispered warily about him. Watching how unsure the commander looked when they were told they had to help train an elemental. The sheer amount of talking around and about him without ever actually being addressed. 

He got the feeling he wasn’t important. Or... perhaps  _the idea_ of him was important, but not him specifically. He didn’t know whether this was a good or bad thing, but he supposed if it were  _bad_ someone would have mentioned it by now. Or maybe it just was how things were here? Because he was  _the elemental_ and they were  _the monsters_. There  _was_ a difference after all. The monsters didn’t accidentally burn tables when they sat down, for one thing. 

The only time that day the elemental felt like he was doing something  _right_  was when the commander and the monster who guided him took him to a rack full of weapons and told him to choose one. The elemental didn’t know why, but he was immediately drawn to the swords. And one sword in particular that he gazed at with an odd feeling of familiarity. Something in his soul echoed memories as soon as he wrapped his hands around the leather grip. He tested its weight in his hands a little, feeling it was a little  _heavy_ than what he remembered - but he couldn’t remember could he? He’d only just been summoned. Still, there was a deep ache in his soul like a memory, and he liked it.

The elemental didn’t realize it at the time, but anyone watching saw he seemed to grow larger,  _taller_. A bit because of the food he’d eaten earlier giving his body a little more magic to work with. A bit because of his remembering, remembering a time that no one would possibly fathom when he was larger and grander and given a charge for centuries that had been cut short for one reason or another. A past life perhaps. A muscle memory from something that hardly existed.

The monster escorting the elemental grumbled about having to get him fitted for new clothes tomorrow.

The elemental swung the sword around a little, feeling at home. Feeling  _familiar._ For once ignorant of the stares being pointed his way. 

The commander mumbled something about the elemental having good form. A little sloppy maybe,  _rusty_ perhaps was the better term, but he couldn’t know that.

After a few moments the elemental was instructed to put the sword away, and told he’d be outfitted with one like it as soon as the materials could be spared. They had dinner, the elemental once again given two bowls of whatever concoction the cooks had made for everyone else’s one. The elemental tried not to be self conscious about it. Tried not to be self conscious about the fact that monsters still stared at him - seemingly even more so now that it was getting darker and his light shone so much brighter as the sun set. It snowed as the monster escorted him to the tent they’d be sharing for the evening. The elemental didn’t need prompting this time. He knew he wouldn’t have a bed - he was liable to burn it, right? - so he found a place on the ground that seemed comfortable enough.

There was a long silence that passed between the two of them, long enough that the elemental fancied the monster was asleep. But the elemental couldn’t sleep. His soul hummed with magic, and an incredible, overwhelming feeling that he’d  _just awoken_ after  _so long_. How could he sleep ever again? For awhile he watched the snow fall, mulling over the events from the day, what monsters had told him and what he’d seen and felt.

“Everyone seems to have a name,” he spoke aloud, mostly to the snow and partly to himself. He gave a spark of surprise when he heard a gruff and bitter answer from behind him - his escort.

“You’re a weapon. You’re not a monster. You don’t need a name.”

The elemental sighed out a soft breath of smoke again. Hmm. He supposed that must make sense. But there was also a nagging thought at the back of his mind, quiet and persistent that whispered long after he should’ve fallen asleep.

_But even swords have names sometimes._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pretty sure this one passes the threshold of longest prompt I’ve written so far with 1722 words! It took a hot minute to finish, and I had to do a lot of thinking on how I wanted it done. Still think it could do with a little something else to make it better but I don't wanna put much more time into it since I have other prompts I gotta get to!
> 
> On that note - ya'll are welcome to send me writing prompts either through AO3 or over at silverskye13.tumblr.com if you feel like it!


	3. Amathea the [Redacted]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fateful meeting, one they'll never forget, awhile before the actual events of CR.

_“Heaven’s alive, that tent being empty is a plight on the nerves on a dark night.”_

* * *

 

_ _

* * *

 

Amathea hated being alone. It was probably a side-effect of being raised with three siblings, all rough-housing since birth. The first time she’d felt lonely was when she’d gotten the letter about Irade falling in battle. She’d felt so lonely her bones had ached, hadn’t they? When she learned she’d lost Ghirdam the feeling had gotten worse. Not just her bones, now her organs. Not a creature of blood and flesh but something hollow. Not a sister, to be a sister she first had to have family. Not a daughter. To be a daughter she had to have parents.

Of course she’d always had Thetis, though the lass was ever moving with the King’s entourage and never had time to write. And Amathea tried to remember that. Remember that if nothing else she had Thetis. But it was hard to remember when she was alone in a tent, surrounded by haggard soldiers and rain and dust. It was hard to remember when there were miles between them.

When she’d lost her arm? Amathea had felt  _empty_ with loneliness. Her own foolhardiness had caused this, hadn’t it? Thought she could take on a mage, daft lass. Amathea the Brave her unit had laughed. Never Amathea the Wise. That was Thetis with her head for maps and planning and puzzling. Never Amathea the Mighty, that was Ghirdam with the strength to take the mage out with him. Never Amathea the Relentless, that was Irade and his blaze of glory of no man left behind and for heroic saving no matter the personal cost.

Amathea the Brave and the Foolhardy. Amathea the Brave and Never Knowing When to Quit. Amathea the Brave and Lucky she Only Lost her Arm and Not her Life.

Amathea the Lonely, so utterly abandoned she couldn’t even keep her unit. It made sense, she  _knew_ it made sense. How long would it be until she was back in fighting shape again? She’d lost so much blood, she’d lost half of her fighting power, she’d lost… she’d  _lost._ It surely made sense she’d lose her unit to some commander more able. Her unit had bid her a fond farewell with wishes at her swift recovery. But they saw her hollowness. It was hard to hide being so empty.

It seemed only natural then that in her misery Amathea made her way to the closest water she could walk to - albeit with difficulty. She was… a bit off balance now… much to her chagrin. Walking was made  _that much more difficult_. And she was left so weak from the recent wound that she couldn’t even form a flickering spear to lean on. She just staggered and insisted she didn’t need help and growled and snapped at anyone who told her to lay down. She didn’t  _want_ to lie down. She didn’t want to admit defeat over something so simple as finding water on her own. She was Amathea.  _She was Amathea_.

She was… thinking that much less wholeheartedly than she probably should.

Amathea staggered and shuffled her way to a lake. Not that it was hard. They’d camped by it for a reason - every hospital outfit needed tons of water. Lots of things to wash lots of mouths that hungered and thirsted and couldn’t rightly travel to find this stuff themselves.

Amathea hated it. She hated looking at it. A lake, all flat and murky, reflecting the sunset like pale obsidian. Its banks all pebbles and mud, its water stinking of trees and muck. It hurt the eyes. It hurt the soul. She hated it. It was so  _finite_  and  _small_. She could feel where it’s banks ended like she could feel the edges of her own teeth. She  _hated_ it.

“Beautiful isn’t it?”

Amathea’s earfrill twitched and she jolted a bit. Whatever monster was approaching her had been quiet enough she hadn’t heard. That was  _unnerving_. 

He rounded to the side of her, obviously not paying attention to her face or he’d notice the scowl. A skeleton monster, all bandaged across his head. Amathea imagined he’d once had the bandage wrapping both his eyes, but he’d since teased the rough fabric away from one of them to let him see. The other was still hidden behind cloth dyed in splotches of bruised purple - bleeding magic.

“Peaceful,” he prompted again, obviously waiting on a response. Amathea narrowed her eyes at him, trying not to choke on the feeling of her soul curdling. She’d wanted to be  _alone,_ for once as alone in body as she  _felt_  on the inside.

“Its ugly,” she answered finally, spitting and easily missing the lapping water. Gods,  _everything_ about her was off wasn’t it?

“ _Ugly?”_

“Aye,” Amathea grumbled, “And small. It’s hardly a puddle isn’t it?”

The skeleton flashed her a side-long glance before sinking to the ground with a sigh. He seemed content to sit here and watch the sunset with her -  _annoying_. His movements were all wincing and stiff, and he moved his head and shoulders sluggishly as if constantly afraid he’d hurt himself more.

“So why come out here and look at it if you hate it so much?” he asked, flashing her another side-long glance, “It’s a long walk for someone fresh off the operating table.”

Amathea snarled, “And what, you’re here to coddle me back then?”

He laughed, and then his whole body winced, “ _Ow_. Uh… no. Not here to take you back to camp.”

He paused and then amended, “Not yet anyway.”

Amathea let out a huff.

A tense silence passed. Tense for Amathea anyway. She felt  _watched_ and she hated it. She hated everything.

She hated the lake. She hated this bone-headed follower of hers who’d stalked her out here. She hated herself.

“So we’re just out here to sulk then?”

Amathea scowled. There was another pause. She muttered, and tried to make it sound like she was talking to herself.

“Water’s the closest thing to a holy thing this world has left.”

“Holy?”

“It’s in everything. Tch, half the time it’s  _on_ everything. Travels everywhere. Doesn’t really begin and doesn’t really end, does it?”

The skeleton stole another of his side-ways glances.

“My family used to believe we’d always be connected through the water,” Amathea felt something tense in her chest and she didn’t like it, “You know, how it’s everywhere. ‘S bound to be some wherever my sister is. Maybe even some in the after you know, where the rest of them are.”

He nodded as if he actually understood, “It’s a wise thought.”

“ _Tch_ , its stupid,” Amathea crossed her a – … she… Amathea fumbled with her one arm and her side, pretending she could cross her arms and only really managing to hug herself pitifully, “Worship it all you want its still just a dumb thing. Couldn’t save a soul if it wanted to. Can’t fix anything. Can’t heal anything. Can’t let me see my sister, or my brothers. Can’t give me back anything I’ve lost. It just sits there and looks pretty. Years of watching the water,  _taming it_ , for what?.”

 _Just for it to sit there and look like burning oil on a setting sun_. 

She was so angry she wanted to cry. She was so angry and she hated that this monster was here when she just wanted to be alone. 

She didn’t even know why she was angry.

“Well,” the skeleton breathed after a long moment, “It was raining two nights ago.”

He looked up at her, “Kinda funny that coincidence huh? You and your holy water ready when someone needs it the most.”

When she didn’t respond, a look of surprise lit up his face - as best it could under the bandage anyway, “Oh! You don’t remember, do you? Well-”

He made a stiff movement with his hand, “-of  _course_ you don’t. Your fever was so bad - I’m sorry.”

He smiled at Amathea, something so whole and genuine she wanted to punch it, “You saved me two nights ago. The camp was raided - obviously. You’ve seen the mess that’s still being repaired.”

His smile shrunk a little, giving way to a much more tolerable, dismal sort of stare, “I was uh… trying to protect my patients. Didn’t work. But… you woke up before they could kill me. If it weren’t for your help, a lot of lives would’ve been ended.”

Amathea looked away from him and back out to the water. She scowled hard at the slick and darkening surface.

“You’re a bit of a hero, you know?”

Gods, she hated the sound of his voice. So kind, so pitiful. Like he was  _trying_ to make her feel better and she  _hated_ it. She didn’t want this right now. She didn’t  _deserve_ this right now. She just wanted to sulk and be rightfully bitter.

“Have you ever had to deal with something like this before?” the skeleton asked hesitantly while ushering in her direction, and Amathea’s gut twisted angrily at the sound of his voice.

“I’d have a  _few more holes_ in me if I did, don’t you think?” Amathea snarled, then her voice dropped sharply lower as she muttered, “They took my unit. They took  _everything_.”

She felt a weight settle on her shoulders, heavy and relentless.

“I’m useless.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Amathea saw the monster’s face twist and soften with pity and she hated it so much she wanted to puke.

“You’re not-”

“And how would  _you_ know, lad?!” Amathea shouted over him before he could finish, wheeling to tower over him, “You ever lose your arm before? Your entire command?! You ever made so weak you can barely  _stand?_ You ever been abandoned by  _everything?”_

Her voice cracked on the last word and she hated it. She hated that her voice shook. She hated that she could hear the tenseness in the back of her throat with every bellowed word. She hated how much it stung her pride and her eyes and how much she wanted to break down bawling where she stood like some kind of brokenhearted child. With a bitter growl she kicked at the bank beneath her feet, meaning to send a spray of dirt into the water and only managing to nearly knock herself over. She  _seethed_ , and she tried not to cry.

After a lot of heavy, angry breathing Amathea managed to tame the writhing fit of emotions in her chest and keep herself from breaking down in front of this  _inconvenient_ monster who’d followed her out here, “Just leave me alone lad. I need some time to think.”

“I… yes… I’m sorry,” he stammered awkwardly, shifted to maybe scramble to his feet only to sink right back down into the sand again, “I’m… sorry. Sorry I uh…”

_Oh gods above._

He laughed an incredulous, regretful sort of laugh, “I’m sorry I can’t stand.”

“You’re not serious.”

“It’s… a pretty new wound,” he said apologetically, “I just… it must’ve… taken a little more out of me than I thought to follow you out here. I’m… sorry.”

“Of all the cumberground  _dalcop_ pain in the ass -!”

Amathea took his hand to help him  _roughly_  to his feet– only to go completely off-balance herself as soon as she made to pull him up. Her feet slid on the mucky lake beach, and together they toppled to the ground. Amathea’s shoulder throbbed from the impact, and she felt a jolt of pain through her side that paled in comparison to the wound in her pride. She was so  _angry_.

And while the monster burst out into a fit of nervous laughter, Amathea sobbed. Angry, hot and bitter tears. Curled on her side. She hated everything. She hated that the world was so different now. She hated that her body didn’t work the way she wanted it to. She hated  _him_. Though… that last one passed quicker than the others.

It took Amathea ages to realize he’d been talking to her through her entire break down. Mostly apologizing like some idiot. But other things too. Asking if her shoulder was alright, if she was bleeding, if she could hear him, if she was okay. Of course she wasn’t okay. At that moment, she wondered if she would  _ever_ be okay. But at the very least, after all that mewling and sobbing and daft stupidity, she felt less angry. Bitter still. But it was hard to be lonely when some doting prat was hovering over you and making sure you weren’t dying on the ground after knocking yourself over.

Eventually Amathea calmed herself enough to answer and say she was alright. And with a lot of cursing on her end and a lot of wincing and fumbling from the skeleton, they managed to stand each other up. Leaning against each other awkwardly, they stumbled back towards the camp.

“Alright, daft lad,” Amathea grumbled as they walked, “They call you by anything?”

“Gaster,” he answered her with what she was sure was supposed to be a pleasant smile, but kind of just looked painful with the bandage, “Wing Ding Gaster.”

“That’s tragic.”

“Family name,” he chuckled, “How about you? They call you by anything, Commander?”

 _Ouch_. That still stung. She tried not to show it.

“Amathea,” she answered, and then sighed and added quietly, “the Brave.”

 


	4. Bedtime Story

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Got a prompt on Tumblr for a Gaster/Grillby comfort fic and this was the first thing that came to mind!
> 
> Grillby can't sleep. Gaster amends the situation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive how weird or hectic this one might be, I ended up typing it up on my phone and I'm a bit too lazy to edit it now.

“Cant sleep?”  
Grillby gave a quiet start as Gaster emerged from the tent, rubbing at his eye socket tiredly. It was well into the night. The sky was moonless, overcast and absent of stars. The forest quiet and still, snow falling softly. It wasnt a storm. Just a few scattered flakes that wafted lazily to the ground. So quiet and still if Grillby closed his eyes he might convince himself he didnt even exist.   
Until Gaster woke up anyway.  
“Not really,” Grillby hummed, “Its too quiet.”  
Gaster yawned and slumped to the ground beside him, “Too quiet? Shouldnt that help you sleep?”  
Grillby shook his head.  
“Its weird when its this quiet,” Grillby murmured, and his voice seemed to ring in the stillness, “It feels like the whole world has stopped moving.”  
Gaster gave a soft sort of hum in reply. Then he shrugged and said, “Want me to tell you a bedtime story?”  
“A… what?”  
Gaster chuckled, “Please tell me you know what a bedtime story is.”  
“Well it seems rather self-explanatory.”  
“Self-ex-! Grillby!” Gaster said, mocking a horrified voice, “Youve NEVER been told a bedtime story??”  
Grillby didnt know whether to laugh for be embarrassed. His blush chose for him, tinging his flame in blue and green.  
“Of course i havent,” he sparked self-conciously, “Why would i?”  
Gaster blinked at him incredulously for a long moment, then suddenly shook his head and shuffled tl his feet.  
“Okay come on, into the tent with you!”  
“Wh-! Gaster-”  
“Nope! In you go come on,” Gaster persisted, using blue to halfway drag the elemental to his feet and shove him towards his tent. All the while muttering beneath his breath, “Whoever your first escort was, they were so dumb! Im complaining to Asgore about them somday! Or to the organization of treating eleme tals like shit. Im going to do it! Watch me! No bedtime story, i swear-!”

-

“Comfy?”  
“Gaster this is ridiculous.”  
A handful of minutes later Grillby was laying on the ground, cacooned up in a number of blankets he didnt need, laying on the floor of his tent. There was a cup of tea beside him, wafting a warm smell through the tent. And Gaster lay beside him, hands behind his head and smiling up at the ceiling.  
“This is not ridiculous this is like… a necessary life achievment,” Gaster said matter-of-factly, “One of the best ones in fact!”  
“Oh yeah, sure,” Grillby grumbled, “Right up there with killing mages and having a birthday.”  
“Listen, living a year in this political climate is a small miracle,” Gaster smirked, “And we ARE celebrating your birthday this year.”  
“I dont have a birthday.”  
“Summoned days count! Now - are you comfy or are you going to grump in your blankets for another ten minutes?”  
Grillby sighed out a breath of smoke, submitting to his fate, “Im as comfortable as im going to get i suppose.”  
“Great! So…” Gaster frowned at the ceiling, “Hmm… which story should i tell…”  
He hummed a short tune for a moment, thinking, before finally saying, “Okay. We’ll do…… The Tale of the Falling Star.”

“Once upon a time, there was a boy who lived in a valley.”

“Very specific Gaster.”

“Hushhhh,” Gaster chuckled and batted a hand at him, “Dont ruin the story. So - once upon a time there was a boy who lived in a valley. A good valley, with a river and trees and a little cottage with a water wheel. Adorable place! And every night he would climb the mountain beside his home to count the stars as they appeared in the sky.”

“Thats a lot of work.”

Grillby was met with a soft slap on his forehead that he chuckled at.

“YOU are a lot of work,” Gaster retorted, “Anyway, so every night the little boy would go up and count the stars as they appeared in the sky, and hed sing a song to them as he did.”

Gaster cleared his throat and hummed, softly, his eyes seeming to look past the tent as he remembered the words.

“One, two  
I will protect you  
Three, four  
From the dawn once more  
Five, six  
The night spins around you  
Seven, eight  
But youll hide from the morn

Nine ten  
Worry not starlight  
Eleven twelve  
Ill keep you safe  
Thirteen fourteen  
In my home theres a nightlight  
Fifteen sixteen  
Shine there in the day.”

“That last one didnt rhyme.”

“Grillby its a child song,” Gaster grumbled, “Forgive it for not rhyming.”

“Ammy would come up with a better one.”

Gaster made an exaggerated motion with his hands, throwing them up in the air dramatically and rolling his eyes.

“ANYWAY, my fiery story critic, every night the little boy would sing his song and count the stars. Every night as he counted them they would glimmer down at him and turn in the sky. And every morning when the dawn broke they wpuld fade away and hide again, back down in his dark little cottage in the valley.

“One day though a great storm swept through the valley, and water flooded down the mountain and into his little home. Gone goes the water wheel, and the trees and the cottage, and the little boy is left floating down the river that used to be his home. He’s scared and alone, and the water is everywhere, and everything is dark.

"And then just when everything seems lost, and the little boy is scared hes going to drown, he hears a voice. Soft at first, barely audible over the sound of the water and rain. But as the voice sings, everything starts to calm. And the little boy looms up and he sees a star. A single bright beautiful star flying across the sky towards him. And shes singing, and its the most lovely song hes ever heard.

"One, two,  
We will protect you  
Three, four,   
From the storm once more  
Five, six  
The water surrounds you  
Seven, eight,   
But youll make it till morn.”

“And the star flies to him and she stretches out her hand and plucks him up from the water. And they fly, up away from the water. Up away from the storm, and the valley, and she puts him down safely on the top of the mountain so high in the sky that the rain clouds are below them, and hes standing amongst the stars. And all the stars are around him and they smile to him, and they sing for him.

"One, two,  
We will protect you  
Three, four,   
From the storm once more  
Five, six  
The water surrounds you  
Seven, eight,   
But youll make it till morn.

Nine, ten,  
Worry not starlight  
Eleven, twelve,  
We’ll keep you safe  
Thirteen, fourteen,  
In the sky we’re the nightlight  
Fifteen, sixteen,  
Shine here with us, stay.”

“And he did stay with them. He stayed until the storm passed and longer, adding his light to the host of stars, and his voice to all their shining voices. And they say on a calm night, when the world is at its quietest, you can hear them singing together still.

"One, two,  
We will protect you  
Three, four,   
From the storm once more…”

Gaster sung, softly, through his song a few times more, adding lyrics and numbers when he thought he could without ruining the rhythim. Amd he watched as Grillby’s flame burned tired and low, and as the elemental’s breaths deepened and steadied. Until the light in the tent was the soft red flickers of the sleeping fire, sometimes glazed with soft oranges amd yellows. Lovely and calm, like the last embers of a campfire.  
Gaster smiled as he watched him.  
“Yeah, knocked me out when Ammy sung it to me too,” he sighed and smiled at the ceiling, “And it didnt rhyme then either.”


	5. Casting Rain : Traveling Coffee Shop AU Edition!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A prompt from Tumblr based off a silly drawing I did of the CR crew running a traveling coffee van. 
> 
> Prompt:  
> Did I hear CR coffee shop AU? One where no one dies and poor firefly doesn't get tortured every chapter? I'd like to order a one shot please. Sweet with a healthy serving of fluff. I wouldn't mind a dash of angst. Whatever you think is best. No pressure though xD

“Ammy get off the roof! We’re moving!” Grillby called, pausing in his work to bang the top of the van.

“Can’t hear ya lad!” Amathea called, the metal roof groaning above Grillby’s head as she shifted positions, “I’m fast asleep aren’t I?”

“Since when do you talk in your sleep?” Grillby shot back with a chuckle, and he caught the edge of her laugh from above him, “Come on Ammy, night’s coming and we need to hit the road. Gaster! Help me get this stuff tied down.”

“I swear she’s half salamander,” Gaster hummed as he stuck his head in the open van door. He scanned the interior for a moment before grabbing cups and lids and placing them haphazardly in boxes. Grillby smirked. He’d have to reorganize later. But that was a task for while they were on the road and he had nothing else to do. For now they just needed to get packed as quickly as possible. He dumped out some coffee grounds in the grass, pausing to bang on the side of the van one more time as he grabbed the next coffee pot.

“ _Come on Ammy_ , the barrier’s gonna catch us at this rate.”

“I’ve driven us through the storm before,” Amathea protested, “It’s just a little wind.”

“And rain so thick you can’t see five feet in front of you,” Grillby hummed.

“And magic everywhere,” Gaster added, “Think we’ll get a lightning show tonight like last night?”

“Could rain soot sprites.”

“ _Oh gods please_ no,” Gaster whined, “It took me  _ages_ to get that shit out of the engine last time.”

“Oh what a bunch of ninny  _gnashgabbing!_ ” Amathea slid off the roof of the van. She stood before them, hand on her hip, “Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“In the ditch you ran us into last week,” Gaster grinned, and barely managed to duck out of the way of a smack aimed in his direction. Grillby chuckled at the two of them as he finished tying down the last of their coffee. At this rate it was going to be a bumpy ride, and he needed to make sure they didn’t lose anything. A crack of thunder rumbled through the sky, and the sky started to darken - partly from the setting sun, and in part because of the clouds rapidly forming on the horizon stoked by magic and intent from eons ago. 

The barrier. Rumor had it that the fell storm was made to keep monsters at bay once upon a time, some preventative spell for a race that they believed only came out at night to grab human souls. Now though it was hardly dangerous at all as long as you were inside when it hit. Night driving wasn’t the  _safest_ thing in the world, and very few people dared it nowadays. Few people that was, besides monsters like Amathea who seemed to be able to sniff out a direction in the dark like some sort of magical pathfinder.

“I call driving!” Gaster crowed, lunging for the front door of the van.

“You don’t even have a license,” Grillby said, smirking, “ _I’d_ be a better driver than you.”

“Oh come on, everyone knows elementals suck at driving,” Gaster signed, reaching for the front door again only to be swatted to the side by Amathea.

“Aiy sure, and  _your_ driving would put us in a tree,” she grinned, “Get in the back Wingdingus.”

“Fine,  _fine_ , but I’m gonna drive us one of these days! Watch me!”

“Sure, just as soon as you learn to drive in the day without throwing us off the road,” Amathea cackled, slipping behind the wheel, “You ready back there tinderbox?”

Grillby pulled the sign off the roof of their van, smiling down at the words Gaster had painted somewhat haphazardly weeks ago.  _Grillbz Coffee, Made with Warmth_. He slipped inside the van and closed the door shut just as the wind picked up.

“Hit it Ammy!” Gaster grinned, cranking the radio up. For a second it lingered on a forecast - some magical reading of the nightly barrier storm - before Gaster switched the channel to some heavy guitar riff and a wailing song.

“Not this shit again,” Amathea whined as she pulled out of the parking lot they’d set up shop in, “Turn it to Ballads.”

“We listened to Ballads all drive last night!” Gaster said smugly, “Don’t you ever get tired of listening to a bunch of drunk ladies singing old folk songs?”

“Don’t you ever get tired of listening to this banshee mess?” Amathea grumbled back. The engine roared as she gunned it onto the nearest highway. The road was mostly cleared with the storm coming on them. Somewhere up ahead a big rig pulled off to the side of the road for the night, probably choosing to take it easy for the night instead of fighting the wind. Amathea drove all the faster, faced with a wide open road with hardly another car in sight.

“You’re speeding,” Grillby said nervously, eyeing the speedometer from the back seat.

“You’re no fun!” came the enthusiastic response.

The sky darkened ominously, like it did every night. Wind started rattling the sides of the van, threatening to push them off the road. Amathea gripped the steering wheel a little harder but otherwise remained unphased.

“Alright, 12g says it’s soot sprites,” she grinned in Gaster’s direction.

“I take your bet and  _raise you_  15g it’s  _anything but soot sprites,”_ Gaster scowled, “Because I am  _not_ cleaning that out of the engine again.”

“You’re the only one who knows how to fix the engine,” Amathea pointed out.

“Then I guess we’ll just be  _stranded_ then.”

Grillby chucked from the back seat, settling in to organize the mess Gaster had just thrown together in their hurry to leave. The way the van rocked with the wind made him nervous, and just a little motion sick, but he was starting to get used to it. It’d taken  _a while_ , and several sleepless nights laying on the floor of the van praying for the ride to stop. 

Something thwacked into the windshield and Amathea flipped on the wipers, cackling maniacally.

“Pay up!!”

“ _Why did it have to be soot sprites??”_

Grillby rolled his eyes. At this rate they’d be lucky if they got one town over before the soot worked its way through the grill of the van and the cracks in the hood, the insidious stuff, powered by magic, gumming up everything it settled on. Gaster would spend the next three days fixing the van while Grillby and Ammy ran around looking for parts.

It was going to be a rough couple of days, and they’d have to sell a lot of coffee to make up what they ended up spending.

But honestly? It was worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There will probably be no continuing of this, but it was really fun regardless!


End file.
